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"His father was very unhappy with him," Dad says, stabbing a piece of broccoli with his fork.
"That's not answering my question." Looking at both of them, I get my answer. It's written all over their guilty glances.
"I facilitated his transfer," Dad replies eventually. "A friend of mine is the principal."
"You took him away from me," I whisper.
"What he did on Thursday—”
"This has got nothing to do with that. You've been planning to send him away for a long time."
"Dani, that boy is no good for you," Mom adds unhelpfully. I push my plate away, gripped by the sudden desire to break it along with every piece of china on the table. To avoid that, I cross my arms over my chest.
"He made me feel important and confident," I almost spit the words out. "That's more than the two of you ever did for me." My parents not giving me a shred of love or attention made me wonder if there was something wrong with me. Damon showed me there isn’t. It felt so wonderful to be loved. Now he's gone, and I'm alone again, with nothing but a piece of red fabric to remind me I'm worthy of love. "You two have been busy hating each other for more than ten years. You can't tell me a thing about love or who is right for me."
My mother pales, pursing her lips, just as Dad says, "This is no way to talk to your parents." They look stricken, but I’m far from being done.
"I'm the second child you had in the hope of saving your marriage, and then you realized you made a gigantic mistake."
"You were not a mistake." Mom covers her mouth, looking away quickly. I think I spot tears at the corners of her eyes, and guilt overcomes me.
"Really? Great job at showing it, Mom. You hoped that if you ignored me enough, I would eventually vanish into thin air. Well, guess what? I didn't. I'm a real person with real feelings. Damon gave me everything, and you took him away from me. I can't believe it."
When my parents look at me again, I see in their eyes something I never did before: awareness and the recognition they might have made a mis
take.
Then my father booms, "You've never been rebellious; this behavior isn't characteristic of you."
I swear something snaps inside me. The moment I stopped being happy with an invisible existence, the moment I wanted something for myself, I became a problem.
Pure anger pours out of me as I say through gritted teeth, "Rebellious? I'll give you rebellious."
One year later
Chapter Twenty-Two: Dani
Drawing in a deep breath, I stare at the gray building of my new dorm at Stanford. Some things you cannot escape, as much as you want to. My father went to Stanford, and my brother went to Stanford; now it's my turn. Still, as I inhale the brisk end of March air, I know I made the right decision to come back. I am home in California, after all.
After Damon left one year ago, all Hell broke loose. I channeled all my pain in lashing out at my parents and James. I wanted to punish them for my pain and for pushing away the boy I loved. It was teenage rebellion at its finest. I had always prided myself in not going through the typical ‘teenage phase’, yet there I was, squeezing years’ worth of rebellion into a few short months. Ultimately, it all came to bite me back. My exam performance took a nosedive, and I missed my grades for Oxford, ending up at another London university. James begged me not to move, but of course I didn't listen. I moved to London and lived there for an entire semester. The best part of my stay there was my kick-ass flatmate, Jessica. The story behind meeting Jessica is quite funny.
Almost exactly one year ago, the night I lost Damon, James found Serena. He fell head-over-heels for her, and they are now engaged, getting married in three months. Jessica is Serena's best friend, and she moved to London at the same time I did and hooked up with my cousin, Parker.
I was only halfway over my rebel phase when I moved in with Jessica, no longer lashing out at my parents, but I continued with a project I started in my rebel days back home: changing myself. I wanted to fashion out a new Dani, one who wasn't a nerd. As a reformed party girl, Jessica was more than happy to help turn this good girl into a bad one. But I never felt right pretending to be someone else, just like I never felt comfortable in London. Turns out the answer to feeling home someplace wasn't moving to a foreign country. I yearned to come back, but pride kept me from admitting to myself and to my family that moving had been a mistake.
One phone call changed all of that.
Before Christmas, James called me during the night with the news that my father had suffered a heart attack and the doctors weren't optimistic. I jumped on the first flight to California, the last words I had spoken to my father playing in my mind over and over again. They had been resentful and mean, and the thought that those might turn out to be the very last words was unbearable. My father was in critical condition when I arrived, but he survived. The doctor ordered him to quit work right away because he was at high risk of having another heart attack. After a heart-to-heart conversation with James and my mother, I decided to return. Despite our differences, we are family, and I longed to be home.
James pulled some strings so I could start at Stanford in the spring, so here I am, in the place I should have been from the very beginning.
"Hazel," I call the second I step into our room. She lifts her head, deep brown curls dangling from her messy bun. She's wearing a baggy t-shirt, and her hands are full with books. Dropping the books, she rushes between the boxes, throwing her arms around me when she reaches me.
"I can't believe you’re back."
I inhale one whiff of her familiar jasmine and lily perfume before her hug becomes a tad too tight. "Welcome to Stanford's finest on-campus accommodation," she says. I lived in a luxury apartment in London, but I want an authentic college experience this time.
"Hazel, I can't breathe," I stammer. She lets go. "You have to stop doing this every time you see me." Since I've been back, I've seen Hazel about four times, and she’s reacted the same every single time. Truth be told, I can't get enough of her hugs. I missed her like crazy while I was in London. The prospect of experiencing college with my best friend makes me giddy.
